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VIOLETTA AND I 


BY COUSIISr KATE. " 


DITED BY 


M 


f Jif'- McINTOSH. 



gentleness and love and trust 


Prevail o'er angry wave and gust.'’ 

— LONQFELI.OAr. 


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EOBIISTG-, Bublislier, 

319 Washington Street, 
BOSTON. 



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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
A.'K. LORING, 

In the Clerk’s Office pf the District Court for the District of Massaxjliusetts. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


CHAPTER I. 

It is an old saying that the old love to recall the days 
of their youth, and so common a one that it hardly seems 
worth noting down in the first line I write ; and yet, but for 
its great truth, I should never have written here at all ; for, 
ever since I can remember, my dear grandmother has been 
telling me tales of what happened when she was a young 
girl like me. Of the earliest of these I cannot remember 
much, except that they bore some reference to little girls 
who never grew tired of three rounds in stocking-knitting, 
— among whom my grandmother always classed herself, — 
and I call to mind that I could not believe she had ever 
been anything but my grandmother ; and when, on one 
occasion, she mentioned how large a baby she had been, 
weighing more by two pounds, she said, than the generality 
of babies nowadays, my clumsy little fingers let two stitches 
drop while wondering how very funny the steeple cap must 
have looked on such a little grandmother, and whether the 


4 


VIOLETTA AND I.* 


silver shoe-buckles had not been enlarged, they being much 
too big for baby feet in their present state. 

My grandmother and I lived in a small cottage, several 
miles distant from a little fishing hamlet, and except a few 
poor women who came to her for healing drinks or salves, 
we did not see many persons. Polly, our servant, told me 
I came to the cottage when I was a little maid of only three 
years, and that my mother had died when I was born. 
From my father we often had long letters, and in them all 
he spoke of a large fortune to be made ; but as time passed 
on and he did not come, I lost faith in the great house and 
the diamond shoe-buckles that the fortune was to bring; 
and, after many months of silence, there came news, in a 
letter bordered with black, that my father had died within 
sight of the fortune that had proved such an evil fairy to 
him ; and my grandmother and I were alone in the world. 

I was sixteen then, and after my father’s death I saw 
how greatly my grandmother’s affections had been set upon 
him; for her strength seemed suddenly to fail her, and she 
lavished on me pet names, and tender, endearing little 
words, that I think she must have murmured over his baby 
cradle, they had such power to soothe. About this time 
it was, she loved to take her tea in our little vine-covered 
porch, and in the twilight would tell me of her own youth. 
One morning, she seemed specially calm and peaceful, and 
as I sat beside her, the distant roar of the sea, mingling 
itself with the honeysuckle fragrance, the quiet stars look- 


VIOLETTA AND 


5 


ing in upon us, she first began to tell me of her sister 
Violetta and herself, before they parted for their different 
homes. I cannot tell what first recalled my aunt to her 
mind on that evening. Perhaps it was that shb thought I 
felt lonely, and lacked companionship, having only her for 
company. However that may be, as I removed the little 
tea-tray, and sat down beside her, she smoothed my hair 
with her hand, and said, in tones the sweetest I have ever 
heard, “ Thou hast no sister, dear heart, to bear thee com- 
pany ; but I will tell thee of Violetta, who was mine ; ” and 
so she began, and in the quiet, August evening the story 
written here was told to me ; and I wrote it down, because 
those who gather round my knee will never be able to hear 
it from her calm lips, as I did, and I would not have it 
fade from our remembrance. In many instances I have 
given my grandmother’s style ; but as a general thing to 
make continued use of “ thee and thou,” as she always did, 
was tedious to me, I not having been accustomed to use 
that mode as a child, and I wrote it down after my own 
fashion. 


6 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


CHAPTER 11. 

The first thing I can remember in life was thinking my 
sister Violetta the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. 
I was short and square, and like my father ; she was tall 
and graceful, and even in discharging the simple house- 
hold duties that fell to her lot, she gave to them a beauty 
that not even our mother had seemed capable of bringing 
out. Did she but sprinkle water Trom her soft, white 
hand upon a tuft of Texas pinks, the tiny bells seemed 
each to nod and smile, and blush to deeper pink, because of 
Violetta’s kindness ; and the white pigeons, that seemed to 
regard my father and myself as natural enemies, would circle 
round her head, and coo in very happiness if allowed to sit 
upon her shoulder, or peck dainty morsels from her hand. 

There was a difference of ten years in our ages, so that 
when ^he was twenty, I had only numbered ten, and we 
two were the only children ; we had neither sisters nor 
brothers. My mother, I am sure, was an inch or two 
taller than my father, and if anything could have been an 
exact copy of the two, it was Violetta and I. She was 
tall and finely formed ; her brown hair shaded a brow that 
was clear and white, and her eyes, so large and blue, ex- 
pressed so much strength, and yet so much love in their 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


7 


soft depths, as to leave one in doubt which would have the 
mastery, love or resolution. I think she knew very early 
how beautiful she was, and the knowledge, instead of 
making her vain, only gave to her a little commanding 
way, which all of us were ready to accord as her right, — 
for there was not one of us who had not made her an 
especial idol,/ — and so we all grew to doing very much as 
Violetta willed in all things. She was the inseparable 
companion of my' mother. I was ever near my father. 
In her young days, my mother must have been very like 
what Violetta was at twenty. 

We lived then in a queer old house, in a small settle- 
ment near the ocean, and my father was the only physi- 
cian. The house had originally three large rooms built 
of tabby (a composition of lime and sand), to which my 
father added a walled room with a thatched roof, and two 
wooden buildings ; to one of these he gave a steeple roof and 
to the other a flat roof, with square blocks of wood placed 
at regular intervals around it. Each corner was surmounted 
with a wooden figure, meant to represent an eagle, and to 
do duty as a weather-cock. No one had ever heard of more 
than one being necessary ; but father, who was ever of a 
sociable turn, declared he could never sleep with such a 
lonely bird perched on the roof ; so, in the slightest gale, 
the four great birds did duty faitlifully to the time of his- 
death. I think father’s kind old heart reproached him for 
having only paid four pounds for his four favorites, and if 


8 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


he could have sent the merchant an extra pound or so, he 
would have been relieved. 

From the house on the hill, our house always put 
me in mind of a patchwork quilt’ This house, on what 
we called the hill, was Bailey Manor, and was built 
on the highest ground near us. It looked like an old 
castle, it was so large and roomy. At the time of 
which I speak, it was closed, there being only one left of 
the large family that had once owned it, and he being 
absent across the seas, no one knew where ; though I 
sometimes thought Violetta could have given an accurate 
guess, had any one but me thought to ask so odd a question. 
But my mother was busy with her maids, my father with 
his drugs, and I was but an idle little maiden, on whom 
sun or rain failed to make any impression, as I strayed 
about, charming butterflies or gathering wild flowers. Often 
as I followed such pastime, my father’s old gig would 
appear with Thomas as outrider, and I would be lifted into 
it, and jog around with my father. . 

When I recall the kind of practice this dear old gentleman 
did, I am often troubled at the force of an unpleasant truth. 
I often have to own to myself that he would not have stood 
very high at this day ; for he believed physic a humbug, 
and nature the best doctor; and though I never doubted, 
when he was telling me so, that he was right, yet many 
learned men have arisen, and many learned things are now 
in fashion, and it is clear to me my father did not practise as 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


9 


they do. The older he grew, the fewer medicines did he 
carry in his square cliest, and I sometimes thought his dear 
memory was failing him. He prescribed frequently, 
“fresh air” and “fresh water.” Once I feared he had 
made the wife of a Dutch skipper very angry. She 
brought her little child to my father’s office, and for the 
life of me I could not tell which was its head and which its 
feet, as it lay across her bosom, so completely was it en- 
wrapped in shawls. I saw a queer little smile in the 
corner of my father’s eye, as he commenced unrolling the 
wrappings, until he came to a poor, little, smothered, white 
face, — all the while listening to a crowd of ailments. To 
my surprise, he handed the little thing over to mej and 
bade me sit with it in the sunshine ; and, as I carried it out, 
I heard him say to the mother, “ Sunshine, madam, that’s 
the first prescription, and don’t cost a cent; fresh’ water, 
madam, that’s the next, and fully as cheap, — not a thimble- 
ful, to start it crying, with no beneficial effects, but a tub- 
ful, madam, enough to wet the whole of its little skin at 
once ; ” and then I heard a great oath from my father, for 
he sometimes said such things when very much excited, 
though he always expressed his regret afterwards for 
having done so. The oath, now it seems, was because the 
little morsel I held in my arms so tightly, for fear the 
sunshine would melt it, or the sea-breeze coax it away, ate 
“things,” just as the burly skipper and his wife did, — a 
fact which the honest Dutchwoman told with great pride. 


10 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


Though I am certain mj father would not have wounded 
the feelings of a humming-bird, yet it sounded wickedly to 
me when he said, “Madam, with such a taste, I fear your 
child will not be content with milk and honey, which is, I 
hear, the simple diet of a better world.” When she com- 
prehended him fully, I heard her sobbing gently, and my 
father’s old, kind manner returning, he told her that we 
had Bible doctrine for milk for babes, and not strong 
meat ; and when she had gone away hugging the little one 
up to her motherly heart, and stopping every now and 
then to kiss it, I said, “Father, how could you make her 
cry about the babe? ” and he said, as he drew me on his 
knee, smoothing the curly locks so like his own : — 

“ Sweet heart, did I ever make thee cry but for thine 
own good ? Tears shed for innocent error are not bitter ; 
only conscious guilt draws burning, tears. When thy little 
hands lifted the young mocking-birds from their nest last 
spring, and I told thee how the mother would grieve for 
her lost nestlings, thy tears fell fast; but they were 
quenched, dear little heart, when I restored them to their 
nest. So with yonder poor woman. She lifted her baby 
from the proper place where God put it, and she only cried 
to see what she had done, as thou didst ; but she will not 
cry any more, for only mismanagement ailed the babe, and 
she will bear in mind what I told her concerning it.” 

And several months after, the same woman came ; but 
the baby was so rosy, I hardly knew it. Wherever a patch 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


II 


of sunshine fell, it crawled over the floor towards it, and 
once I saw it trying to catch a beam, which slanted in 
through the lattice ; and I thought my father must have 
given it some drugs; but he only said, “Nay, thou little 
medicine-chest, not any of thy drugs ! ” and afterwards, as 
was his common habit, when he could think of nothing else 
to tell Thomas to do, he lifted me on his knee and 
bade him burnish the instruments, — those instruments 
that his dear old hands never touched if he could help it, 
and which he kept as bright as silver, but always locked 
up in the skeleton case. The skeleton, my mother told 
me, he, one day, not long after they were married, took 
from its case and buried; and in the village church-yard 
stands a slab with the inscription, “An Unknown Gentle- 
man,’’ and underneath is my father’s office skeleton. It 
was a tender point ever after with him, and my mother 
often said the buried skeleton did her more service than 
two live men could do ; for my father would give her any- 
thing she asked if she would but keep silent about this. 
“ He had always considered it ungentlemanly and unneigh- 
borly to refuse a Christian man decent burial ; and he 
hated the ghastly thing shut up in his office, any way,” he 
would say, when teased by my mother, who never failed to 
say, “ Maybe he was a Turk or a Frencher, goodman ; and 
anyway I care not for thee to be neighborly towards skele- 
tons ; ” whereupon he would get up and make reply : — 


12 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


‘‘To the half of mj kingdom, my girl, will I give thee, 
an thou wilt but hold thy tongue.” / 

And so we all had gold chains, that came across the 
‘water, to say our Easter prayers in, and I agreed with 
my mother that my father’s good, though eccentric heart, 
led him to do many an odd deed. Having lived out of the 
world so long, he knew as little of its ways as a child, and 
many little things, such as turning dress skirts, and mak- 
ing over our gloves again, had to be done at home, because 
our father’s old purse never came home from a journey 
with anything but the sixpence for good luck in it, — there 
were so many who knew, as well as we, the way into the 
gentle old heart. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

On Easter Sunday, I call to mind how very fine I felt, 
— so. fine that I forgot entirely until we had got into the 
church to look and see if my mother and Violetta were so 
very finely dressed too, and just as I turned to look, my 
mother touched my hands, and bade me look at them, and 
‘‘ not be staring like an ill-mannered child in church ; ” and 
so it was not until we were journeying home in the family 
coach, that I noticed how pale Violetta was, and that her 
hand trembled as she held her prayer-book within it. Her 
dress was of blue . silk, laced up both back and front with 
great silver cords, and the ruff on her throat was of very 
fine lace, while sprigs of the lilies of the valley, in her 
hat, fell upon her shoulders and rested against her dark 
hair. My father and mother were speaking of the failing 
health of our pastor, and discoursing of the great merits 
of such plain sermons as he delivered, which contained not 
so many big words that poor and unlearned persons could 
not understand them ; and then they fell to wondering who 
it was the good man had prayed for in church, and my 
father said, in an aggrieved way, “ The poor body should 
have everything he needed by to-morrow, God willing,” and 
my mother shut her eyes in a significant manner, implying 


14 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


that she knew she would have to hide a few extra things 
that we hadj for one night, ^ as it was a favorite maxim of 
our father, that “no man needs two of the same thing; ” 
and so we rarely ever had more than we immediately needed 
of any eatable in the house, as he always gave away the 
surplus. After they had talked on for some time of other 
things, Violetta and I being silent, they returned again to 
the services at church, and in my father’s quick way he 
asked : — 

“ And pray, wife, who do we know in that ship’s com- 
pany, that our good pastor prayed so earnestly for ? ” and 
my mother shook her head and said : — 

“Nay, husband, how should I know what faileth thy 
memory ? I make certain I have no kinsfolk or acquaint- 
ance on board.” 

And my father, looking out at the sky, which had cleared 
off that morning, after a heavy gale of wind, said : — 

“Let us pray, wife, that the good ship has weathered 
the gale, and entered a safe harbor, with her company 
uninjured.” 

And just then I looked towards Violetta, and though 
my father had not asked her to pray for the ship’s 
safety, yet I am certain she did so, more earnestly than 
my mother, for her lips were very wan and colorless, and 
were moving very quickly, and as her eyes sought the sea 
they had such a wild, restless, feverish look in them, as if the 
great waves alone could quiet them. And all the next day 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


15 


she watched the waves, and spent the afternoon in the little 
summer-house that overlooked the beach at the north end 
of our garden, and at one time she left it and went to her 
room for a skein of wool for her tambour work, and I saw 
what struck me as very odd for one who knew her 
business so well, that my sister had worked a rose-bud 
upside down, and it seemed so good a joke that I ran to 
tell my father ; but he was taking his afternoon nap, and 
we did not disturb any of his naps ; so the fun went untold, 
until, as Violetta was putting me to bed at twilight, and 
her fingers trembled so she could not unlace my bodice, I 
said : — 

“ Violetta, was it because your fingers trembled so 
much, that you made that rose-bud in the tambour work 
upside down ? ’’ And she said : — 

“ Your eyes are too big. Maggie, larger than mine, for 
I did not see my mistake.” And I shut my eyes as if to 
sleep, and said : — 

‘‘ Please to tell me what I am to see and what I am not 
to see, sister Violetta ; ” and then she smiled a faint smile. 

“ See all you can, Maggie, love. It is a bad plan to see 
only one thing, hear only one voice, know only one 
person ; ” and then she kissed me, and I fell asleep soon 
after, and it was many days before I remembered or under- 
stood what she had said. 


IG 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Easter week, the old clergyman who taught us gave me 
a holiday, as is the common custom, and though many 
were the plans my mother and Violetta concerted between 
them for that holiday, I cannot recall any that I adopted. 
I took much more readily to my father’s views, which were 
a silver sixpence in the morning, and permission to do as I 
pleased for the balance of the day, — the only limitation 
being that I should keep within a mile of home. Violetta 
frowned, for she had a new stitch to teach me, and my 
mother said : — 

‘‘ I am sure, Violetta, the father forgets she is not a 
boy, which I cannot marvel at, seeing she doesn’t resemble 
either you or me.” 

I went off with the last words echoing in my ears, 
heartily wishing I was a boy, now that my mother seemed 
to doubt my being ever taken for a girl ; and I made this 
fine resolve, that, instead of sewing, and knitting, and look- 
ing after the maids, I would practise piiysic, and for fear 
of my father’s making fun of so young a student, I deter- 
mined to call upon Thomas to teach me all he knew. I 
had no very clear idea of how much that ‘‘ all ” comprised ; 
but I had seen him often make bread pills for amusement, 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


17 


which, though rather too large to swallow, looked very 
shapely. So up I sprang from the green bank whereupon 
I had been seated, and away I darted for Thomas, who, as 
I saw from the window, was in the little room back of the 
office, spelling out of a spelling-book to himself He was 
never out of calling distance of my father, and, though 
almost as old as he was, still possessed a great desire for 
learning, and for years and years had kept a book just at 
hand to pick up when disengaged, — which I may safely 
say was very often. When I reached the window it was 
with difficulty I could speak, so out of breath was I ; for, 
though in my tenth year, I was not taller than a girl of 
seven, and I was almost as broad as I was long. 

“ Take me in the window, Thomas,” I said, “just as 
fast as ever you can.” 

“Gracious me, miss!” said Thomas, “what can be to 
pay ? Be anything after you ? ” 

“ Be quick now, Thomas, and do not make a noise, for 
Bettie, the maid, will take me up in a minute, to darn this 
great rent.” 

“But, miss, you are not so small as when you was a 
baby, and what can you be after ? The measles is taking 
the rounds ; has you got ’em ? ” 

“ No I ” I said in great disdain; “ nothing has got me, 
and if you will not take me in, I shall never learn the 
‘ medical science.’ ” 

These two last words I had heard my father use, and 


18 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


they acted like magic on Thomas ; for he instantly lifted 
my weighty little person in through the window, taking 
very thoughtful care to put the side with the rent nearest 
him, that the vigilant eyes of Bettie might not detect it ; 
which was very kind of him, I -shall always think. 

“ Now, miss ! ” he said. 

“0 Thomas ! ” I began, clasping my fingers together to 
keep from being too much overcome, “you know. I can’t 
bear to be a girl any longer? ” 

“Miss!” 

“ Oh, but I can’t, Thomas I and if I can’t be a man to 
practise medicine, I shan’t be anything.” 

“ But miss ! ” exclaimed Thomas, his face an awful mix- 
ture of doubt and consternation, “ I can’t see as how 
and why.” 

“Well, now listen,” I said, “and I’ll tell you; only, 
Thomas, be very still,, for it is a secret. My mother says 
I’m such a great romp, and so. very little like what I 
should be, — lady-like and all such things, which my 
father is not, — that I’ve made up my mind to stop 
sewing, and learn physic, and practise, and have a gig, and 
a man to beat the mortar, and do like my father and you, 
Thomas, and not like my mother and Violetta any 
more.” 

“God save us, and particularly you, miss!” said 
Thomas. 

Thinking I might learn to be dignified by myself, I 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


19 


said with great composure, I hope he will, Thomas; 
but when will you begin to teach me? ” 

Me, miss ! ” ' 

Yes, you, Thomas, and I’m ready to learn right away. 
Now, what’s that ? and that ? ” and I pointed to several jars 
containing different liquids. 

Lord knows, not I, Miss Maggie ; and if you even so 
much as touches them, you is dead.” 

Here was something I had not come prepared for, and I 
felt my heart sink at his ignorance of the three first ques- 
tions ; so I. said, while my eyes filled with tears of disap- 
pointment, which never failed to touch his heart : — 

Thomas, if you only knew how I want to be a doctor ! ” 

‘ ‘ A doctor, miss, a real live doctor ! Is you certain 
that’s what you wants?-” 

Yes, quite certain, and quite sure too, Thomas.” 

Well, in the first place, you has to get hard-hearted. 
You mustn’t cry when you falls down, and you must be glad 
when anybody else does ; so you can cut off their heads, 
and arms, and legs. How is you going to get hardened, 
miss ? ” 

And I only put in a very feeble I don’t know.” 

‘‘Well, I’ll tell you. Yonder goes Josey, the cook’s 
boy, to kill ducks for dinner to-morrow, and you must just 
stand up like a brave little doctor and see Josey do it; and 
keep on looking at Josey every day, until you’d rather a 
great sight see Josey kill things than anything else.” 


20 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


“ 0 Thomas, I never could go by myself. If I’ve got 
to do it, couldn’t you come with me ? ” 

‘‘Well, yes, miss; but I can’t do it after this once. 
Doctors aint allowed no supporters; ” and so Thomas went 
with me, and as we neared the poultry-yard, I wanted to 
run away dreadfully, but was unwilling to abandon my 
chosen profession so early ; so I stood it until the great axe 
was raised in the air, and then I ran as if for my very life, 
and only caught my breath as I fell into Violetta’s arms, 
who sat in The little arbor, and Violetta said I was some 
kind of a child; but I was too terribly impressed then with 
the horrors of a medical education to remember what kind 
she said I was. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


21 


CHAPTER V. 

For the balance of my Easter holidays, I preferred lead- 
ing a quiet life; so the days passed without anything 
happening that was worth narrating, until the Saturday 
morning, or rather noon. 

I had taken my pet kitten, and was lying near an old 
stone fence, which separated Bailey Manor from our 
grounds, and was almost asleep, for aught I remember, 
when my little pet showed signs of hostility, and, opening 
my sleepy eyes more fully, I saw the handsome head of a 
dog just perceptible above the fence. Gathering the kitten 
in my arms, I prepared to leave that part of the ground, — for 
I in no way admired dogs myself, — when, just a step or so 
behind my shoulder, I saw the kindly face of Mr. Reginald 
Guy, the owner of Bailey Manor, who had, without my 
knowing it, returned from abroad. He was the first to 
speak, as I was shy towards strangers. He said : “Why, 
here we are, little Meg; and how are Mistress Violetta 
and the others at home ? ” and I, dropping a courtesy, 
replied in the most approved manner my mother and 
Violetta had ever taught me : “We thank you very 
kindly, sir, ^d we are all very well ; ’’ and he smiled so 
kindly I felt emboldened to say, though I but half knew 


22 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


if I did right or not, “ Mj sister Violetta had no color in 
her cheeks on Sunday, and none again on Monday ; but she 
is very easy now, we thank you.” 

When I said this, he said to me, taking my hand the 
while, “ Thou art so good a little Meg, I have a mind to 
give thee a little playmate, who I have brought home with 
me;” and when he saw my wondering looks, for I 
never could control the expression of my eyes, he went on 
to say, “ We are going to know each other better now than 
we ever did, Maggie, and I want you to take my little 
Otilia under your wing, and make her cheeks as rosy as 
yours are.” 

And then I came to know that he had brought home his 
little motherless daughter ; though why we had suddenly be- 
come such good friends, I could not just then tell ; for though 
he had been at our homestead very often, and I was as good 
a little Meg then as I was at this time, he had taken very 
little notice of my goodness. And when I went home, I 
straightway ran to Violetta, who was gathering the dead 
leaves from the plants in her bedroom window, and, catch- 
ing hold of her gown, I said, Violetta, do listen to me 
while I tell you something. Mr. Guy has come, and has 
brought a little child for me to take care of; ” and from the 
time I said Mr. Guy, she took my hands in hers, and said, 
while such a rosy color stole into her cheeks : — 

Thou art a dove this evening, Maggie, and dost bring 
me a very welcome olive-leaf.” 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


23 


All of which I could not understand, and though she 
kissed me once and then again, she did not look as if she 
cared to talk, and I, not wishing to be silent, went down 
into my father’s office; though after my recent adventure 
with Thomas I did not even look towards the inner room 
door, for fear he should want me to learn my first lesson 
over again. And the next day, which was Sunday, so 
soon as I awoke I heard Violetta stirring, and I said : — 

“ Violetta, did you not sing to your lute last night, after 
you had put me in my bed, and were you not on the porch 
till late ? ” and she said : — 

“I did have my lute, and I sang too, sweetheart, but I 
cannot say I sang to it.” 

And I turned off, and pretended to be going again to 
sleep, for oftentimes that was just the way mother or 
Violetta began when I needed correction in my grammar, 
or some other thing I liked full as little. Violetta never 
had looked so lovely as she did that day at church ; and 
when she was going home, Mr. Guy did most carefully 
stow her away in the coach, not letting so much as a fold 
of her silk get creased, or rub against the wheel. I won- 
dered why Thomas, who had always done it, only helped my 
mother and me in ; and I fell to thinking all the way home 
how handsome Mr. Guy was ; and yet, even as a child, I 
remember often thinking it was because of a certain noble 
manner, that I thought him handsome. Towards women and 
children there was such an odd, deferential manner about 


24 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


hiiDj and in talking to old gentlemen there was one thing I so 
clearly remember, — he always held his hat in his hand, 
though, on one occasion, the man was only his white-haired 
boot-maker. True to his promise, on Monday morning he 
came over with little Otilia, and I call to mind I was not 
pleased that he bade her put her arms round Violetta’s 
neck and kiss her twice ; seeing that I was to take such 
special care of her, I thought I was entitled to the first 
kiss. 

The little Otilia was just three years old, and I did not 
wonder at her father for wishing a rosier color in her cheeks 
than lived there when she came to us. She was very tiny, 
very fair, and very winning. I am certain she must look 
as her poor little German mother had done : for she was 
not in the least like her father, Mr. Guy. Such deep blue 
eyes, and such soft, fair hair, that was just long enough to 
braid behind her tiny ears ! And they dressed her so 
oddly, too ; and then, her broken English sounded so sweet 
and childish. I remember, like one in a dream that now 
fades, now brightens, how timidly she hid behind her father 
as he brought her in ; and when he lifted her on his knee, 
and saw how curiously the German gown and tight little 
cap struck our eyes, he said : — 

Mistress Violetta, and little Meg, have I not brought 
you a little Dutch doll ? ” 

My sister Violetta’s color deepened on her fair 
cheeks, but I, though I felt mine to see, could not 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


find that I had blushed at all. It was not until by 
and ^by that I found out why Yioletta was now always 
either blushing or smiling ; and the large, betrothal 
ring helped me more to a conclusion than anything else 
did. Besides, Otilia was now almost constantly with us, 
and nothing so pleased my father as when the quiet little 
thing would take her seat at his feet in the office, and 
either hush to sleep a great rag doll our Bettie had made 
her, or sing, as she gently rocked herself, fragments of 
little German hymns, that sounded very sweet and clear in 
that baby voice. She dearly loved to walk about, and 
often I see, if I but close my eyes, my father walking about 
the garden, with Otilia clinging tightly to his hand, and 
the two, the gray and the golden-haired, seemed such com- 
pany for each other. 

From the time she came, I began to lose my childish 
ways, and now when there was one so much smaller, I 
looked upon myself as company for my mother and Vio- 
letta, and condescended to learn how to do many useful 
things. So little Otilia helped me too. Each day we 
saw more clearly how her father’s heart idolized her, and 
once, as they two sat in the porch, I heard him say : — 

‘‘ Violetta, perhaps I do wrong to make so great an idol 
of such a frail little being. She is the only fair thing that 
is left me of a mournful past, as thou, true love, art all that 
is fair and lovely in the present.” 

What she made reply I did not hear, but his voice 


26 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


sounded clear, and full of the earnest truth of what he felt. 
He was saying : — 

‘‘Nay, love, I could not say ‘ Thy will be done ’ so 
soon as that. I fear if God so smote me, I should be all 
my life trying to bring my rebellious heart to feel submis- 
sion to his will ; and if human instrumentality robbed me 
of my little one, God knows, I fear, I never could for- 
give.” 

Somehow these words strangely kept coming again 
and again into my mind, though the more continually 
I saw Violetta with Mr. Guy, the more continually my 
heart kept saying over in low murmurs to itself, “ Thou 
' alone art worthy of her,” for since they had been be- 
trothed, the old, commanding way, that used of old to be 
Violetta’s only defect, seemed to be gone entirely ; and my 
mother smiled, and I pondered often how gently obedient 
to every wish of his she had become. 

The marriage was to take place in our simple village 
church in the month of November, and my mother and the 
maids lost no time in storing chests with linen and pre- 
serves and other household goods, which was the only 
marriage portion her betrothed would have her bring him ; 
and such being the case my mother said they should be of 
the most expensive kind. 

This was the month of J uly. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


,27 


CHAPTER VI. 

The summer passed off very quietly for us, who were so 
busy getting my sister Violetta ready for her new home ; 
and though it w’as a dreary thought that she would no 
more be our own Violetta, still we could not damp her joy 
by our grief ; so the mother, only to keep her heart up, 
scolded Bettie more. Bettie, who did not seem to mind it, 
told me, “ The .mistress was so full it was likely there' 
must be a floodgate somewhere,’’ and ‘‘she was sure she 
was neither high-minded, nor above being of service to the 
mistress at any time; ” and I, who could not always keep 
my tears for private luxury, once or twice threw my arms 
around Violetta, and there sobbed out my grief; and I 
remember on one occasion she said : — 

“Nay, little Meg, instejid of making me sad by thy 
tears, tell me what thou canst do for the mother when I 
am gone ; ” which only made me sob the more, and I said, 
very wickedly : — 

“ I wish, sister Violetta, that the great ghost, that Bettie 
says is never tired of eating up bad men and little girls, 
had eaten a dozen times over the wicked man; ” and Vio- 
letta smiled so sweet a smile, and asked : — 


28 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


“ What man, Maggie? I know of none that is so wicked 
as to be eaten bj the ghost ; ” and I said : — 

“ How can you say so, Violetta, when but for thee I 
should never have known him at all, seeing that he never 
thought me good until one summer’s day he wanted to 
know if you were well.” 

A rosy blush coming into Violetta’s cheeks, she put her 
arms around me and said, while her soft cheek touched 
mine, all wet with tears : — 

Do not fret now, dear little heart, and do not try to 
love the wicked man; but just keep open a tiny corner of 
thy little heart, and even before thou knowest he will have 
come in and made thee love him ; he is so kind and true. 
It is not likely for thee now to think upon such things ; 
but some day, thou too, little sister, will have learned how 
we who are weak must cling to that which is by nature 
so much stronger.” 

She kissed me very softly, and now that my tears were 
dried, I asked : — 

“ And wilt thou love me too, as well as ever, when he 
shall have got you all to himself, Violetta? ” 

In so low a voice she said : — 

“Earnest love for some good man does not close the 
heart from its other loved ones ; it only makes one see how 
beautiful love is, and we are ready to love all who come 
near us. Only wait, Maggie, and^thou wilt see.” 

And after that we took a walk, and I did not feel very 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


29 


jealous when, at the turning of the road, we met Mr. Guy, 
and by degrees I was walking by myself, seeing that Vio- 
letta could not any longer be said to be walking with any- 
body but the heir of Bailey Manor. 

It was about this time that my father first began to get 
from a distant town a small paper that treated of many 
things, but more especially of the stars, and many persons of 
our acquaintance said it was not proper to have such super- 
stitious things about ; but he always said, the man must be 
very weak who could not read without being biased; ” and 
then the neighbors would oftentimes say, that “books that 
pretended to know the weather, and the waves, and the 
signs of the times could not fail to do one thing, which was, 
bias one to the evil one ; and my father once said rather 
suddenly to them : — 

“Neighbors, can you tell me what is coming, when the 
sky grows dark with clouds and we hear thunder in the 
distance? ” and they said : — 

“ How now, are we fools, not to know that we shall have 
rain ? 

And thereupon my father’s eyes twinkled with merry 
good-humor, and he said : — 

“ Well, then, neighbors, is it not possible that some men 
may not need to wait until the clouds gather to predict a 
storm? ” 

At another time he replied in this manner to them : — 

“ If you will be wise to some purpose, have the doors 


30 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


and windows strengthened with good oak bars, and a safe 
shelter for man and beast ; for to mj notion the wind from 
the sea has a wail, and the heavens an unsettled look ; so, 
be warned in time, good friends.” And mj mother, who, 
she being busy all the time, could not read the paper, 
said : — 

“Goodman, now thou art doing what thou never didst, 
taking a stitch in time ; only thou art up too early, seeing 
the rent is not yet made, for the sky is as blue as my best 
gown, and as free from cloud as our Violetta’s life.” 

He said : — 

“ Nay, then, Margaret, it is not to be supposed that a 
woman, as busy as thou ever art, should ken more things 
than one ; ” and in her usual, quick way my mother laid her 
stout hand upon his shoulder, and said : — 

“ Husband, had we not better add an oaken bar or so, 
to keep thy skeleton from returning to its case? ” 

He answered : — 

“ What is it, Meg? Silver and gold have I none in the 
house, for neighbor Draymond has all I had to fetch his 
crippled boy home; but so sure as thou art still, ^ I will give 
thee the next instalment I may have.” 

This put an end to the discussion, for the present at 
least; but I never could see that reading the strange 
paper, which was called an, almanac, ever did my dear old 
father any good. On the contrary, as the month of 
August waned and September set in with an earlier fall 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


81 


than usual, he grew silent, and oftentimes sad ; his old gig 
went more frequently to the homes of the lowly than to 
those of the rich, and my mother said, with real sorrow, 
that the father was becoming very silent, and no longer 
minded the skeleton or its empty case;” which to my 
mother was equal to some failure in the banking-houses 
across the water, as my father’s being so sensitive was an 
exchequer she could always draw upon. Much of his old 
wit and dry humor left him also, and he^ seemed like some 
good husbandman, who will shortly set out on a journey. 
The little Otilia, in her shy, dreamy way, seemed to be a 
better companion to him than any other, and often the two 
would sit together in the office porch, and Otilia would 
sing to him, sometimes little hymns, sometimes broken 
parts of a German chant, that she had heard from her old 
nurse, the hazy sunlight, as it fell upon the pair, showing 
often that both had fallen asleep ; and I said to myself as I 
saw them, that the pure heart of the child rested against 
the pure heart of the man ; for through all of life’s warfare 
could there be any more simple, more tender, tha* this 
gray-haired father ? I think, when he entered heaven, the 
little children, who love the guileless and the good, must 
have led his feet by the golden river, and never known 
how he was old and weary in this world before he came to 
theirs, — so little had the years touched the true heart. 

Late one evening, as he sat with Otilia in his arms, he 
bade her sing him a little childish hymn, the words of 


32 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


which I cannot recall ; but it seems to me they were of ‘‘a 
home for little children;’’ and while the little voice sang, I 
heard my father singing with her, very softly, and at the 
end of the second verse she left off, and, putting one arm 
round his neck, said : — 

“You sing so fine, so little and small, nobody can hear 
you. The Lord Christ, who lives up in the heavens, can- 
not hear you, but only me, if you sing in such a very little 
fine voice.” 

My fathered answered : — 

“Though I were only to whisper, little babe, he could 
hear, and I had rather he only should hear.” 

And after that she never teased him to sing louder, but 
he always sang with her ; often with much patience she 
taught him her little tunes and verses. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


33 


CHAPTER VII. 

Summer glided into autumn, and though the warm 
weather still tarried, the laborers had gathered in the 
greater portion of the harvest, and life was at its height. 

One afternoon, as I sat in the hall, and Mr. Guj and 
Violetta were in the family room, — she parcelling out for 
some friends her different flower-seeds, but lately shed 
from the parent stem ; he trying to help, but from her 
laughter, sadly hindering her, — I heard her laughter sud- 
denly cease, and the cause I caught in what he was 
saying : — 

“If I could stay, I would certainly not leave just yet, 
but thou thyself shalt decide for me ; and after I have told 
thee, I have little doubt which way thou wilt decide ; for 
though thou art so loving, there is a will in thee, that 
prompts thee to grasp life after thine own fashion.” 

“That were unkind, Reginald, seeing that I have had 
but little will since I have known thee.” 

“ You would rather say, true love, that loving has been 
thy will in the present case, which does but prove that I 
am right ; for even before I knew thee well, thine eyes 
commanded love, and I obeyed. It did not take me long to 
s 


34 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


learn that commands for such as thou, needs must be 
obeyed, or I should have but small peace with myself.” 

“ If I should say I must have time to believe such a 
doctrine, — one that is both new and strange, seeing I have 
always believed a contrary one, — you will tell it to me un- 
• til I’ve learned better ; if it needs be, over and over again. 
I shall never tire of the same old tale.” 

‘‘ I wdll tell you from now until the sound of. my voice 
is but an echo in this world. In heaven I shall still say 
the same, — always, always, the same tale, save that as thou 
and I go down together, the lips will have taught tneir 
music to the souls, and they will sing it anew in a better 
world, as if it were only just begun.” 

And after that there was a long silence, — so long that I 
had well-nigh fallen asleep, — or the low tones of Mr. Guy 
were inaudible to me. For some time, either they were 
very low or I had fallen asleep ; when I waked or heard 
next, Violetta was speaking, and she said in answer to 
something from him : — 

‘‘ I could not say it would not seem unkind to stay away 
when surely he needs you more than I ; so, if it remains 
with me to decide, I say it is but duty to go, though I 
shall miss thee sadly.” 

“But, Violetta, pardon me, if I speak my whole mind; 
if I remained over until the next week, might I not carry 
thee ? It lacks but t^vo months of the time, and I care not 
one stiver for the chests thy mother sees fit for you to have. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


35 


The little one also could go with us, and I would have all 
with me then, and not be fearing every moment some harm 
were coming, to hasten me home.’’ 

And as I heard this, the great tears welled up in my 
eyes, for I dreaded to have her go so soon. But I need- 
not have feared, for Violetta answered, with something of 
the old firmness, that “it could not be;” and after some 
more talking from him, .he went away ; and later in the 
day I heard the household saying, “ how that Mr. Guy was 
going on a journey to liis uncle, who was like to die, and 
Violetta was to keep an eye on the little Otilia during his 
absence.” 

So, two days afterwards, he came to bid us all good-by, 
and though my father and mother were standing by, he 
kissed my sister Violetta’s hand, which I remember think- . 
ing very bold, until my father said, that, “seeing he was 
bound for so long a journey, he might kiss her cheek; ” 
which thereupon he did, to my seeming nothing loth ; and 
I thought surely Violetta must wish the floor to open and 
take her in, she must be so confused at such strange con- 
duct; but, instead, I do not think she noticed much of 
anything. I am certain she lost sight of father, mother, 
and me. 

After he had gone, Violetta was as busy as my mother, 
having nothing to hinder her, and I took it upon myself 
once to say : — 

“It is very nice now, sister Violetta, that you have 


86 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


nothing, to hinder you from helping our mother and the 
maids about the things.” 

To which she said : — 

“ Where can all the odd speeches you make come from, 
•Maggie? I do not know, but of the two, I would rather 
have the hindrance than the things.” 

And one day I remember there came a great letter to 
Violetta ; and I, thinking it must contain all the news that 
they had so much of in the great world beyond our village, 
ran with my basket of work to Violetta’s room, and asked 
her about the stars, and the shape of the new gowns, and 
everything else that had been a matter of doubt in our 
household; and she said there was nothing of the kind 
in her letter.” I could not then understand how so 
large a letter could be written witli nothing at all in it ; 
and when I knew, by the bundle of paper and the different 
materials for writing, that she was to answer it, I collected 
up all the news I could hear, and told it all to Violetta, 
for fear she should forget ; and she failed at last to put any 
of it in ; which I thought unpardonable, and my mother 
gave me a band of linen ta stitch, so that I might not vex 
Violetta while she wrote. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


37 


CHAPTER VIII. 

My . father surprised us all one morning, when it had 
been storming a. little, by having a carpenter fasten great 
oaken bars to the doors and windows of the hall, and the 
three centre rooms of our house, and my mother said, 

Goodman, are we being fastened in a jail, and hast thou 
turned jailer?” to which he said, while he consulted the 
weather-cocks, “I have a great fear, Margaret, that foul 
weather is in store for us.” 

And all the following night the wind blew steadily, and 
rattled the window-panes, so that Violetta grew restless and 
said, ‘‘ Surely, all the ghosts that Bettie loves to frighten 
thee with. Little Meg, must be abroad to night, the wind 
is so searching; ” and again, before we fell asleep, she said, 
“ I trust me the old German nurse is taking proper care 
of the little Otilia, as I feel in some way answerable for 
her well-being.” And in the morning when I waked, the 
wind was blowing very fiercely, and the waves were moun- 
tain high; so that I said at breakfast to my father, that the 
sea had put on white caps in honor of the sea-king’s 
marria^je; which was another of Bettie’s stories. We had 
only risen from the table, when a messenger came to say 


38 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


the little Otilia was not well, and the nurse would like my 
father to come over. So, after a few moments spent in 
putting cloaks about us, we went, — my father, Violetta, and 
I, — and Violetta and I concluded to stay awhile and wait 
until the wind had lessened, and my father, notwithstanding 
the inclemency of the weather, went upon a distant call ; 
for a poor* man’s wife was at death’s door, and could not 
find any rest. So, after charging us to take care of our- 
selves, he set out, to be back, he said, “ God willing, 
towards sunset;” and somehow I could not keep my eyes 
•from following him, though Bettie had ever taught me not 
to speed travellers by looking after them, unless, indeed, I 
had an old shoe to break the spell by flinging after them. 

And all the day long, the wind blew as it had done the 
night before, and my mother sent us word to tarry at the 
manor until next morning, and towards day — for Violetta 
and I could not sleep, but sat up near each other, and said 
parts of the Bible that we could call to mind — the wind 
increased fearfully, though still from a quarter that did not 
bring the sea up. Violetta said it would lull soon, and 
then we could go home, or perhaps our father would come 
by for us in the gig, which would haply be much better, 
as Otilia was not well. So we sent our mother word that 
we would be coming on very soon, most likely with our 
father, and we sat to wait the wind’s lulling; which did 
not take place until near four o’clock, when it softened 
down, and we were thinking of going, and had been getting 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


89 


Otilia ready, when all in a moment it sprang up with a 
terrible violence, and we saw it had gone round to the 
north-east, and was driving the sea up with great force; 
and we clung together and did not say a word, for there 
seemed nothing for us to say. 

And the house shook, and the great doors, some of which 
were without fastenings, slammed to and fro, and the water 
continued to rise, though not so rapidly. ^ Never in our 
lives had we seen aught to compare with it ; and we never 
dreamed that it was not then at its height, until the ser- 
vants came rushing in, in terrible fright, to say the house 
was rocking as a Cradle, and the ceiling, falling, which we 
already knew too well; and even as they spoke, we heard a 
great crash, and the north wing, which had been Mr. Guy’s 
room, lay in one great heap of ghastly ruin, which so 
increased the fear of all, that the servants were persuaded 
the whole house would fall in upon us, and entreated us to 
save ourselves; and when we said, Where can we fly to? ” 
they answered, “ Anywhere, rather than remain, where soon 
we shall be killed and buried in the same breath. The 
waves cannot be more unkind.” 

And when they begged us not to hinder them from 
going, but to let them save themselves,” Violetta, pale 
and trembling, said they might go, and they rushed away, — 
whither, none of us ever knew. And the house rocked to 
and. fi:o more violently, and we were alone in the storm. 
Alone, did I say ? — no, not alone, for God was with us, 


40 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


though his voice, coming to us through the storm, filled us 
with terror ; and though Otilia tried to sing, the great gale 
carried her voice far away, and she shrank back in a 
corner, and cried softly ; and Violetta took down from its 
shelf the Bible, and, turning to the storm on the Sea of 
Galilee, read how the Saviour had succored the disciples 
when they were as sorely afirighted as we. 

And the child crept up closer to us, and said, Mistress 
Violetta, stand me up near the window, and who knows but 
I may see him coming to us.” And Violetta answered, 
“ Nay, my darling, look not out for his coming on the 
waves, for we cannot see him face to face, until we are with 
the angels: ” but she shook her little head and cried, “If 
I might look out, he might be coming;” and we did 
not say her nay, though our tears fell fast as we saw her 
little form pressed against the window-sash, her tifiy hands 
folded tightly together, and her eyes searching the foaming 
waves for the Saviour. Once or twice we saw her start, 
and then the tear-drops would fall, as she saw the imag- 
inary figure fade into a billow; but she did not leave her 
post again, and Violetta and I knelt together and prayed 
as we had never done before ; and as the last words died 
upon our lips the house shook fearfully, and the great hall 
door fell in with a crash, and the wall of another wing lay 
in ruins, as the first had done. Then Violetta, getting up, 
commenced wrapping cloaks around Otilia and me, and said, 
“ In the next lull, we must try and regain our father’s 


VIOLETTA AXI» I. 


41 


house; ” for the roof of the one we were in was prized up 
already, and was no longer a shelter for us. So we started 
outj Though the wind was very great, the water had not 
yet risen more than a foot over the land, and it being yet 
day we hoped to reach our father’s while it was light. I 
held to Violetta; besides, she bound me to her with small, 
strong cords, and she held the little Otilia in her arms. 
So we started. 


42 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


CHAPTER IX. 

When we first stepped out upon the ground, which in a 
little circle around the house was not yet covered with 
water, I came near falling, and Violetta staggered with the 
child in her arms, but save that I said ‘‘ God help us ! 
not one word escaped our lips. The violence of the storm 
carried my shawl away almost before we had gone two 
steps. I looked up at my sister, and her face was so white, 
and her lips so tightly compressed, I turned my gaze away. 
She seemed as if all hope had gone from her ; and though 
we tried to move quickly, so great was the force of the 
wind, we were more than two hours in crossing the park. 
As we stepped into the meadow where the water had risen 
to be up to our knees, I cried out with terror, it was so 
cold, and I clasped my arms about Violetta, and screamed 
out, “Violetta! 0 sister Violetta! the sea, the great, 
terrible sea ! ” But she only looked at me with her wild 
eyes ; there seemed no longer any power to speak. And 
the waves and the wind kept rising, and the more we tried 
to get on, the more we were beat back. Darkness, too, 
was coming on, and the home was, we knew not where, we 
were so tossed about. The water reached to my waist 
now, and in a little while I felt I should no longer 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


43 


keep upon my feet; but I clung closer, closer still to Vio- 
letta, and in the fading light I could only see the outline of 
her face and form. The child still lay in her arms, — the 
soft, yellow curls hung about her neck, the little hands 
clasped, the eyes closed ; and as a great wave tossed the 
water over us, she drew her little feet up, and in a voice 
that sounded clear, but still so faint, said, “Mistress Vio- 
letta, soon the big waves will not touch me, for the little 
mother will have got mej*” and the cry that rung out over 
the waste of water, as my sister clasped her yet more 
closely, rang in my ears until they were deaf alike to 
human and all other sounds ; and the cords that bound us 
together snapped, and we two were parted. Oh, tlie 
waves ! the great, hungry waves ! that reached in between 
us ; that leaped and danced in my ears ; that drowned my 
voice when I screamed “ Violetta I Violetta ! ” that only 
brought to me back a wail, and then tossed me back again ; 
that seemed to be saying over in my ears all the sins that 
I ever committed ; that recalled, to taunt me, every re- 
proachful look of my dear old father, every thoughtless 
word to my mother ; and when I gathered all my strength, 
and cried, “Father! mother! oh, come to little Meg!” 
they leaped and danced and whispered in my ear, “ Never 
will they hear thee!” and I felt myself drifting slowly 
away, drifting somewhere, and I thought, all in dread, 

“The sea, the terrible, boundless sea. 

Where none shall ever come to me ; ” 


44 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


and I sought to get away. I sought to catch hold of some- 
thing that could keep me ; that could save me from the waves, 
and they laughed in my ears, and flung me up in their cold 
embrace, and jeered at me : “We have thee ! ” I think I 
must have given one loud scream, for in the dim light I saw 
a form, and I held my breath, and thought in my poor, simple, 
childish heart that little Otilia was right, and the Saviour had 
come to me ; but it was Violetta’s voice, and the storm carried 
all away but the one word “ Otilia ! ” and I sank back upon 
the billows, and my eyes closed, for feeling was gone, and I 
ceased to struggle ; but ere I lost consciousness something 
cold drifted against my hand, and a long, yellow curl swept 
over my face, and then all was gone and darkness came upon 
me, and I knew nothing more. They told me all after- 
ward, and I shall go on and speak of others. 

At the homestead, where my mother, during all that 
dreadful day and night, waited for my father and for us 
three, no harm had been done until near nightfall, when the 
tabby portion of the building showed signs of giving way ; 
and Thornas, with an elderly gentleman and his son, who 
were travelling, and had been compelled to take shelter, 
insisted on my mother and the maids removing to the loft 
of a new room then being put up, and which had not been 
plastered. So soon as^they succeeded in getting her there, 
they tore the weather-boarding off* the lower room, allowing 
the water to pass freely through. - The rest of the house, 
from its age and want of strength, gave way, and all that 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


45 


made our home was swept away before the dawn of day. 
The yawl-boat, the foresight of Thomas had secured to the 
posts of the room they were in. 

As the fury of the storm had abated near day, my poor 
mother, half crazed about her absent ones, begged on 
her knees that some one would go and see if we yet lived, 
she thinking my father was with us at the manor. So, as 
soon as it was possible after day, the three men left in the 
boat tr go to the manor. They say Thcmas, good, faithful 
old Thomas, sobbed like a child and wrung his hands, when 
he saw the crumbling ruin, and the desolation around. Yet 
greater desolation was in his heart than the loss of goods 
and household gear could occasion ; for the master apd the 
bairns — where were they?' and who could tell to Rachel 
her children ‘‘ were not ” ? Who could return to the frantic 
mother, that rocked herself to and fro with no one to offer 
comfort, and say to her, “Thy household goods are wher- 
ever the wild waves list ; the sea has thy treasure. Clasp 
the bare arms over the bosom that may no more shelter 
loved ones ; fold the hands ; bear patiently ; for the Lord 
has smitten thee, and the sea only can give up thy dead ’’ ? 
None dared to think of it ; and so, like men driven to desper- 
ation, they drifted over the waste of waters, and went from 
one bare ruin to another, for where could they seek the old 
man, and where his children ? And yet which man of the 
three who sat in the boat could find it in his heart to tell 
the mother they had not sought far and wide ? 


46 


VIOLETTA AND 1. 


It was near the middle of the day Thomas always said, 
when, as they drifted towards what is known in that part 
of the country as an Indian mound, on the farther side 
something caught the eye of the young man, and when they 
neared it, it was found to be my senseless figure. I never 
knew exactly how long I had lain there. I think I knew, 
in an indistinct way, when the force of the waves threw me 
beyond their own control. I was lifted into the boat, and 
from a small flask the old man carried, life was brought 
back to me. They sought for some trace of Violetta and 
the child; but, finding none, they took me home. Home! 
Home to the loft of one bare room I home to the empty 
hearth ! The brandy and my own great weakness over- 
powered me ; and I never knew anything of my return, or 
my mother’s first glad shout. I have heard that they had 
to damp that first joy over her lost and found, for fear it 
should harm me. When I first remember anything 
distinctly, it was, I think, towards sunset the next day. 
Then it was I woke from a long, refreshing sleep, and my 
eyes rested on a pale, ghastly figure beside the small attic 
window; and though I could hardly comprehend what 
ailed her, I knew the features were Violetta’s, and I held 
my breath and tried to close my eyes, and so shut out the 
face of my sister. But I could not. I was seized with a 
feverish idea that it could not be Violetta, — that it was 
the face and form of a lost soul, that, somewhere I had 
heard, wandered about, shut out from heaven, from earth, 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


47 


from hell ; that could only roam on forever without rest. 
Her eyes, so soft and blue, looked as if some great dread 
were frozen in their depths ; her hair was hanging around 
her shoulders, and her hands were clasped over the window- 
sill. At first, I did not remember anything that had 
happened, I was lost in so many thoughts. Only was I 
recalled to what had been, as I listened to her voice, which 
seemed a wail of intense misery : — 

“ 0 God ! the little child, the little one ! 0 God ! 

where shall I find her? Where shall I find her when they 
call for her ? I held her in my arms until they seemed 
frozen in the waters. I held her, and I felt her slipping 
from me. I tried, oh ! I tried to keep her ; but my arms 
were numb ; they refused to hold her. What shall I say — 
what shall I say when they call for her ? Why did not I die 
too ? Why was I left to say to him, I have not kept her 
— the little mother is keeping her? Oh, who will tell 
him ? Who will say I did all I could, — that the waters 
beat in my face, and I could not tell which way to go ? 
Have pity, 0 God, and spare me this great misery; take 
me before I tell him that I was afraid to stay in that great 
house ; that I carried the two babes out and they are both 
gone. 0 Christ, spare me the vision of the two little 
forms washed out to sea; cast some blindness over my 
brain before I see the fishes, the sharks, the slimy monsters 
of the sea clutching at them. • Oh, spare me, for the load is 
greater than I can bear ! ” — and as she spoke she hid her 


48 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


face in her arms, and I could see her whole form quiver, 
as if with an earthquake which w^ould shatter the poor 
stricken heart ; and I said, in mj weak voice : — 

“ Violetta, dear sister, the fishes have not got me. I am 
here, sweet sister ! ” 

But she onlj raised her bloodshot eyes, and looked at me 
in that uncomprehending way, so terrible for us to see in 
those we love, and fell to beating the sill with her 
fingers. No one was in the room with us, and I grew 
frightened, and tried to call for help, which seemed to 
recall her, and, coming to me, she said, “Maggie, is there 
anything I can do?’^ But as she stooped to hand me a 
glass of wine, she fell heavily over on the bed, in a faint, 
so like death that I screamed ; and Bettie came running up 
the ladder that answered for stairs from the lower room to 
the loft. 

“ Gracious me ! ” said Bettie, “ the latter days must be 
upon us ! ” And when I tried to render some assistance, 
she motioned me to be, still, saying, as she applied the 
simple restoratives within reach : — 

“Do you lie still and not bother, Mistress Meg; it’s 
only yesterday you was nearer dead than alive, and now 
it’s the young mistress. Who knows what’s in three days ? 
I, Bettie Cribb, don’t, for certain.” 

“ But, Bettie,” I could not help saying, “ I feel stronger 
now, and I begin to remember things. I know I was 
picked up from some place ; but how came I here in the 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


49 


new room-attic, and how came Violetta to be so ? Tell me 
how it all happened. Where are my father and mother, 
and why, if I’ve been sick, don’t they come here ? ” 

“ How could I answer all them questions, mistress 
Maggie ? You always knows too much, and it’s more than 
good for you to be behindhand this morning.” 

But I could not he satisfied, and when Violetta sank off 
in a deep sleep, Bettie was prevailed upon to give me all 
the information she knew. She dearly loved to tell news 
to any who were anxious to hear, and if one but encouraged 
her. there was no end to the things of importance she could 
speak of, — from the county elections to the minister’s 
new gown ; she was well posted on all. Feeling my pulse, 
and finding I had no fever, she sat down beside me, and 
while she talked in a low voice, she untangled the curls 
that had been matted together for so many days, and were 
stiff from the salt-sea waves. 

“ It was Friday, Mistress Meg, — the day after the great 
gale, and the strange gentleman had gone with Thomas, — 
that mistress and I were up here with several of the maids, 
and I was trying to say a -word or two of comfort to her, 
poor, dear lady, and while I said the little I knew of learn- 
ing to her — ” 

“ And why did you talk to her about learning, Bettie ? ” 
I broke in. “ That surely isn’t comfort.” But she did not 
allow me to get any further, for she stopped me, saying, not 
in ill-nature : — 


4 


50 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


“And what is comfort, anyhow? Mistress Meg, to 
my notion there isn’t any spoken word that can cure sorrow 
right away. The good Lord himself takes time to heal the 
sorrow he sends, and it remains with us whether our sor- 
row is to do us any good, — for it isn’t the sorrow that 
makes us better; it>8 how we heal up, to my notion it is.” 

And I held my peace, seeing that perhaps Bettie was 
right after all, and she went on with her story : — 

“ All of a sudden, aS I was going to say before, Nannie, 
who always had but little sense, screamed out that • a 
ghost was coming towards the house,’ and ‘it was the ghost 
of .her poor, young lady ; ’ and at that the mistress fainted 
dead away ; and while some of the foolish things hid their 
faces for fright, and I tried to recall your mother, the 
stairs creaked, and in the door stood your poor sister. 
Never can I forget her face, — how wild she looked, — 
and how, when I took her hand, I felt my blood chill 
through and through ; for it was icy cold. All I could say 
was to beg her to put on a dry gown, and tell me where 
she came from, and where the others were ; but she looked 
at me as if she were talking in a dream, and, shaking her 
head, only said : — 

“ ‘ I climbed up in a tree, and when day returned, I came 
home.’ 

“And though Tasked her the same question over and 
over, she gave me only that one answer; she never 
varied; and she haint seemed to know anybody, or 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


51 


notice how things have gone ; she keeps moaning to her- 
self and wringing her hands.” 

“Bettie,” I said, suddenly, ‘‘Bettie, where is my 
father? ” 

‘‘ Where, poor little one,” she answered, ‘‘where but at 
home? ” 

“And if at home, why doesn’t he come and see Violetta 
and me ?” J asked. 

“ Because — because — ” she said, and though the poor 
creature tried to dissemble, she took me in her arms and 
sobbed aloud, and I turned my face away. I could not 
bear that any one should tell me any more. I knew enough, 
— I knew that from that distant deed of charity he had 
never returned ; that out on the waves he had drifted 
until the harbor of a better world had received -his pure 
soul into “the rest that remaineth for the people of God.” 

I said no more to any one ; and that night my sister 
Violetta fell ill, and for days we thought she never would 
be anything more to us on earth ; but on the tenth day the 
fever left her, and she had come back to us again ; and in 
tears my dear mother put her arms around us, and prayed to 
know “ which way to go, and how to shelter these from such 
evils again.” And so we removed next week to an inland 
village, where the stranger and his son lived ; and there we 
stayed, until I was twenty and Violetta thirty. And not 
one of us ever heard one word from Master Reginald Guy 
in all that time. All we knew was that large land-owners 
had bought the manor lands, and that Mr. Guy had gone 


52 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


away. Violetta never spoke of him after one day, when 
she said : — 

“Meggie, would God I had died before I left the manor, 
— for Reginald once said to me, he could never forgive 
any one that had been instrumental in robbing him of his 
little child. 0 Meggie ! all fell but the body of the 
house ; had I stayed she would have been here now. Oh 
for one kind word, one gentle look ! Oh, say, will God 
take me, before he gives me that? Will I never, never, 
have one word to cool the fever that seems burning my 
brain? ’’ 

And I, putting my arms around her, said : — 

“Violetta, God feeds the hungry heart, and he is a 
better keeper of the little child than any of us could have 
been. Sister, from the darkness of death, both Otilia and 
our father passed into the glorious light ; the old man and 
the little child are hand in hand there, as they were here ; 
they are very happy. Violetta, don’t wish they were 
back ; for so pure and guileless as our father was, the little 
one is dear to him there as well as here.” 

“ 1 know — I know — ” she burst in, “ but oh ! if she 
had not slipped from my arms; if he had only come to 
say, ‘ Violetta, I forgive you,’ — - 0 Meggie ! I had asked 
no more, though my poor heart cried, like one perishing for 
one drop of love.” 

And I, what could I say? I could not scan the future; 
I could not recall the past; I could only love her; 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


53 


and I put my arms around her and said no word, for I 
thought perad venture the Lord will lead the broken heart 
best up to him. 

And the days grew into months, and the months into 
years, and a calm like that which breaks upon a ship- 
wrecked vessel, when the waves go down and the winds 
lull, had stolen upon Violetta, and when we were watching 
beside my mother, who never was strong after that terrible 
gale, we lost sight, in a measure, of the gloom that had 
fallen upon the young life. And after much watching our 
mother passed away, and we two were left to be one and 
all to each other. 

And when the year of our mourning was over, Violetta 
went with me to my new home, which was upon the same 
spot our old home had been. And there it was I felt sad- 
dest for her ; my own life seemed so full of love, and hers 
so empty. It seemed to me I could enter into her heart, 
and though all was still, and no murmur fell on my ear to 
mar the quiet, yet the strings of the lute were severed in 
twain, — the vase was broken, the perfume was gone ; the 
spirit was no longer a spirit, it was only an existence, that 
moaned to itself, and tasted no sweet human love. The 
face grew whiter each day, and the eyes — never so beau- 
tiful as when they seemed now to droop with the weight of 
unshed tears — haunted my sight, and I longed to tear 
away the cloud, and let the sunshine fall into her life, as 
it fell daily into mine. Much as I loved each drop, I 


64 


VIOLETTA AND 1. 


would have spared her part, if I could. It was the only 
shadow I knew, and though we tried with loving hands to add 
to her joy, she only said she was happy as she could be, 
and our loving deeds did not change the pale face, or take 
one tear from the eyes that were heavy with their weight. 
I grew terrified ; there was such gentleness about her, I 
feared God was healing the broken spirit for himself, and I 
lost sight of Bettie’s words. I could not see that the gen- 
tleness came of the healing, being a healing and not a 
suffering. 

Violetta, my husband, and I, in our sea-coast home, were 
all to each other ; and sometimes I felt tempted to bless the 
gale that had made his father, and mine now, sojourn with 
us, — it was so sweet to think that the arms which sheltered 
me now had taken me from the waters and saved me from 
such death; but my joy would suddenly cease, for I 
remembered my sister Violetta; that, where much had been 
given me, all had been taken from her. We know so little 
of the beauty of this sweet, human love, until we see the 
death of it in another. We would never know how fresh 
and beautiful green boughs are, if our eyes never rested on 
a sapless, leafless trunk. 


VIOLETTA AND I. 


55 


CHAPTER X. 

Two years, with their changing seasons, had passed since 
we had come home. Twice the spring in dewy smiles had 
trembled into summer, and been folded into autumn, and 
winter, grasping them all, had clasped the year with icy 
bands together, and now spring was upon us again ; and 
as I sat on the low piazza, and sang a lullaby to the babe 
within my arms, the golden sun sank in banks of purple, 
and the ring-doves settled to rest, and the sea ebbed and 
flowed so gently, and I felt so at rest in my heart. The 
baby and the baby’s father were so much to love, and all 
I had to spare from them was Violetta’s, — so there was 
no nook or corner that was not full. And through the 
open window I could see my sister, and there was peace in 
the tearful eyes, that seemed at last to wait patiently ; 
and when the latchet of the gate opened, and a stranger 
came towards the house, I thought, ‘‘ I will but put the 
little one down to rest, and be back in time to bid him wel- 
come for the night.” But I was detained a few moments 
longer than I thought; the baby was not well, and when 
it moaned in its sleep, I could but stay to hush it into 
quiet slumber; and then I went out quickly, and the 


56 


VIOLETTA AND 1. 


stranger was no longer there, but instead, mj husband, 
who called me near him, and we saw Violetta sitting in the 
golden light of the fading day, and the stranger leaning 
over her. And my heart beat until I could count its 
throbbing, — for the happiness was come again to Violetta ; 
the lute was strung; the vase was filled afresh, and I 
knew the patient love was filling all her soul with its one 
glad song. Master Reginald Guy had come. It seemed 
to us all as if the wings of unseen angels hovered round ; as 
if the echo of some anthem had reached our world, and 
given us all this one great joy. And my husband and I 
were content to sit in the shadowy twilight and wait until 
we knew more, so sure we felt that the darkness was lifted 
from our sister’s heart. 

Softly as the moonbeams fell, and the sea waves rippled 
on the strand, so softly the two who sat in the window 
came to us. There was no mock modesty shown after that 
reunion. After those twelve years spent in weary waiting, 
the color came and went in happy blushes on her cheek ; 
the eyes forgot their tears : the whole face of my sister 
Violetta spoke more plainly than any tongue can tell how 
entirely she had loved the sunburnt man beside her. And 
sitting, we four, in the moonlight, the simple story was 
told. 

In the distant country to which he had gone to attend 
the death-bed of his only uncle, he had heard of that awful 
gale ; had seen, in the letter of a friend, that his home was a 


VIOLETTA AND 1. 


r.7 


ruin, his child lost, and his servants fled. He left for 
home immediately, and, as he journeyed, another letter 
reached him, that turned him back. Violetta had been 
swept away too, and I had moved to another place. There 
was nothing left to come back to, — his all had gone from 
him in one short night, and he only sought to turn his 
face somewhere, where children with soft eyes, and women 
who spoke in loving voices, did not always recall what he 
had lost. When he said that, I saw a tear steal down 
Violetta’s cheek, and he, seeing it too, drew her nearer to 
him, and to the mute, unspoken “ Forgive me ! ” that welled 
up from her eyes, he said : — 

“ Dear love, there is nothing to be forgiven thee; only 
love shall be given thee. If I loved thee years ago, how 
can I love thee less now that thou art so tender,' — now 
that the sufiering has consumed all the dross ? When I 
struggled to keep away from this spot because it was so 
desolate, — r so full of mourning cypresses for me, — I could 
not stay. The longing grew so great, I needs must come. 
And now that I have come, 0 loving and loved ! 0 
true and tried ! never more will I leave thee, — never will we 
part. The years that have flown have but shown us that 
the pitying Lord has given us a peaceful calm after the 
storm; an earthly crown after a heavenly cross. Hest 
thee, true heart, — the winds have lulled, the waves are 
still, the morning star is rising from the sea.” 


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HITHERTO, 

-A. STORY OF YESTERO A.YS. 

By Mrs. A. D. T. WHITNEY. 


“ Never could Idyll boast a nobler rustic lover than Rich- 
ard Hathaway ; and never has a scene of rustic love been 
described with more simple grace and quiet humor than the 
episode of Annie’s disgrace and the ‘ worrying ’ of her hideous 
bonnet. For anything equally good, one is thrown back upon 
the recollections of Maggie in ‘ The Mill on the Floss.’ ” 
— Illustrated London News. 

“ Our readers may order this book from the library with- 
out fear. There are touches of nature and family scenes 
which will find a ready response in the female heart ; and 
there is nothing that can offend the modesty of the most 
fastidious critic. ” — London Athenceum. 

“Had we sufficient space, we might go on multiplying 
extracts of unmistakable beaut}^ and originality ; but our 
readers must, if possible, procure the volumes for themselves 
and so form their own opinion, which, we trust and believe’ 
will entirely agree with ours. London Literary World. ’ 

“ The scenes and people are American, of the New Eng- 
land type, and in many respects they will remind those 
readers who are acquainted with them of Miss Wetherell’s 
works, ‘The Wide, Wide World,’ &c., only there is more 
strength and character about the present story, though it 
abounds with philosophizing, and only deals with persons 
and acts of unimpeachable morality.” — London Observer. 

“How this is brought about we must leave our readers 
to ascertain from the book itself, which is far too well worth 
reading for us to wish to save any one the task of studying 
it. Especially is the character of Richard Hathaway an 
exquisite conception — excellent in its weakness and in its 
strength, excellent in its shy self-depreciation, and yet in its 
occasional glimpses of its own real worth and deservingness. 
We cannot think ourselves wrong in rating it as one of the 
most faithfully-drawn characters in modern fiction.” — 
London Literary Churchman. 

“ We can hardly recommend the book to mere novel- 
readers ; but to all who can appreciate a book of high pur- 
pose, of real power, of high interest — for, though' there is 
nothing sensational, the story has in it a wonderful amount 
of life and variety — it will prove a most inviting and useful 
oompanion. ” — London Nonconformist. 


PATIEirCE STROSS’S OETIMS. 

By Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, 

Antlor of “Failli Gartney’s Glrllooi,' “Tlie Gaywortliys,” etc,, etc. 

One handsome 12mo, cloth. Price, $1.50. 


“PATIENCE STRONG^S OUTINGS” 

Is a peculiar and a rare book. The beautiful sympathy and 
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originally expressed. We do not not remember any work 
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could. She writes as we talk when deep feeling moves us 
(reservedly, with averted face, as it were, treading with hesi- 
.tation on such holy ground), groping for expression which 
shall be forceful, yet, as fdr as possible, removed from senti- 
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deepest experiences, and, with a simplicity beautiful as it is 
rare, one’s heart is moved with the noblest impulses, and 
softened by the tender pathos of her thoughts. We need not 
recommend such a book. The author’s name is recommen- 
dation enough. 

Patience Strong’s Outings are the outgoings of a woman 
whose apparent opportunities are mostly for staying in. 

They are the Teachings of life beyond ch’cumstance ; the 
book, therefore, is more of suggestion than story. 

The characterization and incidents are simply sufficient to 
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That “ the world owes everybody a living is true in a 
better and higher sense than that in which the saying is 
ordinarily applied ; and in the sketch of the simple doings 
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Patience Strong bides her time and vindicates her christen- 
ing, one sees something of how the good gift that life ia 
meant to be for every soul, comes surely, even into such 
a quietness ; and that out of the world is got the full and 
best world’s worth, by the simplest heart that looks and 
waits for it. 





YIOLETTA AND I. 


(3, P 


OUSIN rVATE. 




EDITED BY 


M. j. McIntosh. 


. . . .. “gentleness and love and trust 
Prevail o’er angry wave and gust. 


Longfellow. 




LOHING-, Publisher 


BOSTON. 


Price, 2S Cents, 



Loriiig’s Siniiig Pulilicatioiis. 


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somely illustrated by the author, and published in elegant style.” — Jto.sfoii l*ost. 

Howard Paul’s Jokes, winch win make you laugh. 

One large Quarto volume, 32 pages, with 48 Illustrations. Price, 25 cents. 
ttI/^3000 copies sold already. 

A choice collection of funniments every one will be amused with. 

As a Car. book it will have a great sale. 

Ben, The Luggage Boy. The Fifth volume of the 
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ALGER has thrown a halo around these “ Street Professionals ” of New York City. 
Their lives, adventures, and ultimate good fortunes, have enlisted the sympathies of thou- 
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The musical growth of a young girl, from the church choir in the country to the 
leading position in oratorios and concerts in our large cities, is traced with great care 
and the steps she took carefully explained. Every young lady will find it of great service. 


Tales of European Life. 

12ino, Paper. Price, 50 Cents. • \ 

» “It is a genial, pleasant book, serene as the Italian skies it tells of.” — e. m. 

A Roman Lawyer in Jerusalem. First Century. 

A DEFENCE OF JUDAS ISCARIOT. 

By W. W. STORY. 

Tinted Paper. Price, 15 cts. , 

“ The argument is very interesting ; but, on the whole, we have lost so many rascals | 
lately, by the re-vrriting of history, that we are inclined to hold on to Judas.” 

— Hartford C'ourant. 

I 

Sorrento Wood Carving;, what it is. How to Do it. ' 

With an Illustration. Tinted Paper. Price, 25 cents. | 

“ A capital amusement and pastime for a confirmed invalid, or any person of leisure.” j 

I 

* I 

Violetta and I. By Cousin Kate. Edited by Miss ! 

Maria J. McIntosh. Neat paper volume. Price 25 cents. 

/ 

i 

$5,000 A Year, and How I Made It in Five 
Years’ time, starting Without Capital. 

By EDWARD MITCHELL. A True Story. Price, 38 cents. 

Chaises Barnard’ s successful Boohs. | 

A Simple Flower Carden for every Country 
Home. What it will Cost. How to Manage it so as to ; 
have Flowers the Year Round. 

By CHARLES BARNARD, author of “My Ten Rod Farm,” “Fanning by i 
Inches,” “The Soprano,” etc. Price, 25 Cents. 

“Every Lady who cultivates Rowers will bless Mr. Barnard for this perfect hand-book, 
so invaluable to them.” 


lyiy Ten Rod Farm , t)r. How Mrs. Maria Gilman became 

a Florist and realized $2000 Income in Two Years. 

Price, 25 cents. 


Farming by Inches; or, “With Brains, sir!” 

The experiment of an overworked Bookkeeper, who took up small fruit raising and 
made it pay. Price, 25 cents. 



Loiiisa M. ^Icott’s First IVovel, 



Yi^ITH 6 pLEGANT | LLUSTI\ATIONS. 
Handsome Cloth Binding. Price, $1.25. 


DAVID ELGINBROD. 

By GEOUGFl MacDONALI), l.l.d. One handsome 12mo vol. Cloth. Price, $1.75. 

“■David Elginbrod is the first of a series of works in which MacDonald’s genius finds 
its completest expression — works which, while vividly portraying the most varied forms of 
life and character, are yet more remarkable for the depth of their religious and philosophic 
thought, and for the spirit of tx'uest poetry and romance which pervades them throughout. 
In David Elginbrod the most interesting character is that of the Scottish patriarch who 
gives his name to the book — a character which seems the creation even more of the heart 
than of the brain of MacDonald. The beauty of this portrait is indeed such as to disarm 
criticism upon its incompleteness, but it must be acknowledged to lack the development 
and vigor of several of MacDonald's later conceptions. Of this novel as a whole it may be 
remarked, that perhaps none of MacDonald's books excel it in the beauty of particular pas- 
sages, in tehderness of pathos and in variety of interest.” — lApitineotDs Magazine. 


ROBERT FALCONER. 

By GEORGE MacDONALD, l.l.d. One handsome 12mo. vol. Cloth. Price, $2. 

“ We believe that MacDonald’s masterwork, thus far, is Robert Falconer. Nowhere does 
this authoc give so completely developed a character as that of Falconer — no other of his 

I 'a ■ 

books possesses so much of heroic grandeur. The sublimity, the pathos, the vivid portrai- 
ture of outward as well as inward life, heighten as the book advances. 

“ Powerful and fascinating merely as a novel even, Robert Falconer possesses a still higher 
value in its treatment of genuine, earnest doubt. Would that many a soul struggling for 
the light, sadly despairing or content in hostile prejudice, might, reading this book, renew 
the expei’ll(||pe of Falconer, who, educated under the influence of the sternest type of Scot- 
tish theolog'y — a type scarcely known among ourselves— and tormented, thence, with many 
doubts, finds a refuge, at last, from doubts and formulas alike in the living presence of his 
Lord and Master ! 

“After Falconer himself, the most interesting character in this book, and perhaps in 
MacDonald’s writings, is that of Eric Ericson, the companion of Falconer’s youth, whose 
mental history and early death form the most pathetic episode in our author’s works. A 
doubter, longing to believe, but attaining only to hope, Ericson awakens a combination of 
admiration and sympathy not accorded to any other of MacDonald’s characters, and the 
tragedy of his life forms a striking contrast to the triumphant epic of Falconer’s. 

“ MacDonald’s higher female characters are, in general, exquisitely described, but less 
powerfully drawn, less completely developed, than his men; and Miss St. John, the heroine 
of a part of this book, is hardly an exception to this remark. The general earnestness of 
tone which characterize \t^e book, is agreeably relieved by the flavor of comic humor im- 
parted to it by the chaAciers of Dooble Sanny and Shargar. 

“ It may be observed that, apart from the general interest of Robert Falconer., the practi- 
cal suggestions given in the latter part of the book regarding Chi '* ■ ian labor among the poor, 
are of the highest value.”— Magazine. 




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